Major thanks to TJinLOCA for being an awesome beta, thanks to pookha for being my canon fiend, and a big shout-out to Boushh, HTH2K4, Mitchell, and Jedikatie for some amazing feedback that inspired me to get off my ass and back to work.
All of you rock!
And thanks to Jedikatie for giving me an idea about Archer & Mayweather. She'll recognize it when she sees it...
This is the second part of the sequel to Elysium. It won't make a lot of sense if you haven't read Vigrid. Like Elysium and Vigrid, I'm writing this as prose and using the basic screenplay format (Teaser + 5 acts).
Dramatis Personae – Endeavour (NX-06)
Officer (CO): Charles
Tucker, III- CPT
Executive Officer (XO): also Senior Science Officer (SCI) - CDR
Chief Tactical Officer (TAC): Heinrich ("Rick") Eisler, 3IC (Til Schweiger) – LTCDR, 3IC
Chief of Engineering (ENG): Drahn, 4IC (Andorian male) – LTCDR, 4IC
Senior Helmsman/Navigator (NAV): Daniel Hsiao, (Daniel Dae Kim)- LT
Senior Communications/Linguistics Officer (COM): Marie Devereux, (Sophie Marceau) - LT
Chief of the Boat (COB): Colin Mackenzie, (Jason Statham) – Master Chief Petty Officer (MCPO), senior enlisted
Chief Medical Officer (CMO): Phlox
Damage Control Officer (DCO): Allison Li, (Grace Park) – LT, jg
SecForce – "Roughnecks"
6 (OIC): Scott Reynolds, LT, jg
Roughneck 2 (NCOIC): Anita Karanja, Senior Chief Petty Officer (SCPO), enlisted, (Still called Gunny)
Roughneck 5: Nathaniel Hayes, ENS
Vigrid Station. 1 August 2156.
Allison Li was tired.
It was a bone-deep weariness, one brought on by nearly twenty-four consecutive hours of constant activity and hard work. Repairing Drahn's constant "shortcuts" was almost always exhausting, but adding a three hour visit to Mac's quarters followed by nearly two hours of assessing damage on a rundown station only made things worse. And now, with both the station and Endeavour on high alert due to a string of suicide bombings, bombings that had inflicted the same damage she'd just repaired, sleep didn't seem to be in her future any time soon.
And yet, despite the exhaustion that was riding her shoulders, despite the promise of another twenty plus hour day, Ally found that she was surprisingly alert. She was actively looking forward to the long overdue conversation with Mac; if nothing else, they'd argue and nothing turned him on - or her, for that matter - more than arguing. That thought made her smile.
Shfting in place, she glanced around the tram station with barely concealed interest. It said something about the sheer size of Vigrid Station that a train system was necessary to get from one sector to another. The tram cars themselves reminded her of enclosed skylifts, complete with clear windows that provided an amazing view of the station's internal workings during travel.
Across the tram station, a cluster of Starfleet uniforms drew her attention and Ally glanced at the newly arriving group. She recognized the commodore at once and took a moment to watch him; for a man his age, Jonathan Archer was in great shape and she idly wondered if he was as energetic in bed. At once, she pushed that image out of her head: entertaining thoughts of sex with a flag officer, no matter how attractive she found him, was probably not the best way to repair her relationship with Mac.
The Vulcan ambassador was walking alongside the commodore and, once more, her thoughts took a decidedly prurient turn before she could catch herself. Both men were surrounded by grim-looking Roughnecks; the members of the security force were in full combat regalia and wore expressions so dark that very few even thought to approach them. From their front, Gunny Karanja surveyed the crowd of early-morning Boomers that filled the tram station with a look in her eye that was positively predatory.
Taking a step toward her arriving tram car, Ally bit back a curse as a man suddenly shoved by her without even an apology, jostling her arm and knocking her tool box to the deck. Shooting him a black look, she froze at the sight of wires poking out of his oversized jacket. For a long moment, she didn't know what to do and simply stood there, rooted in place, watching him with wide eyes as he weaved his way through the crowd, his eyes intent on the commodore.
"Bomb!" someone shouted - it might have been her - and the words spurred Ally into action. Darting forward, she tackled the man, inexplicably finding herself grateful for her older brother's insistance that she play rugby with him and his friends. She and the bomber hit the station floor hard and he twisted in her grip like a snake, smashing his elbow back into her face with brutal force. Momentarily stunned, her grip on him loosened and he staggered to his feet as she struggled to clear the dancing spots from her vision. Screams were echoing around her as Boomers scrambled to get clear of him and, as she leapt to her feet, she realized that the panicking crowd had pinned the Roughnecks in place. The security force could not move, could not get the commodore or the ambassador to safety, could not get a clear shot at the bomber.
It was up to her.
Heart pounding, she sprinted forward. Once more, she tackled the bomber, this time approaching him from an oblique angle. The momentum of her sudden attack carried them both over the turnstyle and into an open tram car. Rolling quickly to her feet, Ally kicked the rising man in the face; the power behind her blow knocked him once more to the ground and he gave her a blank look that was absolutely terrifying. There was no emotion on his face, no trace of humanity, no hint of compassion or anger or even contempt. He was little more than a flesh robot, a walking instrument of chaos that would not stop until he carried out his objective. Blindingly fast, he kicked out, sweeping her legs out from under her and dropping her to the floor of the car. Once more, they scrambled to their feet and Ally realized that she was running out of time.
Without removing her eyes from him, she elbowed the tram's control panel behind her, experiencing a sudden mad surge of triumph as she felt a button depress under the pressure. Recognizing her intent, he lunged forward and she met him with another desperate grapple, this time employing a judo throw that flipped him onto his back. Her breath coming in ragged gasps, Ally punched him hard in the face.
With a hiss, the door slid shut.
The jolt of the tram suddenly jerking into motion knocked her momentarily off-balance and the bomber took advantage instantly, giving her a kick that sent her sprawling. Her head smacked hard against metal and stars danced before her eyes as she struggled to focus. The man moved quickly toward the door, toward the control panel, and she found yet another burst of energy. Leaping onto his back, she wrapped her legs around his stomach as she locked him in a sleeper hold with her arms. Straining to cut off his breathing, she held on tightly when he smashed her into the car's walls in an attempt to dislodge her, despite the pain that danced through her back. Through the windows, she could see the tram station begin to recede in the distance, could see Gunny Karanja lunging through the crowd of Boomers toward the car.
Too late, Ally realized that the bomber held something in his hand.
The world exploded in fire.